He laughs. “Oh, I know. It’s all right. I honestly don’t remember most of what’s left in here.”

  I scan the walls again. My focus lands on a familiar face above his shoulder. It’s an old poster of my father looking poised and strong in his jersey, holding a football and winking right at the camera.

  “Even that?” I point.

  Junior follows my gaze. “Oh.” He winces. “No, I remember that. I’ve had that for a decade, at least.”

  “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said he was your hero.”

  “I really wasn’t.” He blinks at me and smiles. “So, who the hell are you because you are amazing.”

  I laugh. “I make a decent first impression.”

  “No shit.”

  “I, uh…” I pause, searching for the best way to explain it. “I used to spend a lot of time at other people’s houses.”

  Junior says nothing. He listens.

  “Friends. Neighbors. Mostly,” I continue. “My father was nonexistent. My mother often disappeared for days at a time. She’d leave me some money — a little chunk from the child support — and take off until the rest of it ran out. Eventually, she got sick of coming back to check on me, so she put me into boarding school. I saw her about once a month. Maybe.”

  His mouth opens and closes. “Oh.”

  “People noticed. They’d take me in until she got back. I never wanted to be a burden on anybody. I always felt like one, though.” Junior stays quiet. I think to shut up, but the words just keep spilling out. “I was that Pierce girl, once again taking up space in places where I didn’t belong, but I did chores, I helped make meals, and I worked hard to earn my keep wherever I stayed. I learned a lot about manners and making a good impression from the grateful mothers of my friends.”

  “Wow,” he says, his eyes soft on me.

  “Couple that with a natural acting ability and you have the perfect girl to bring home to your parents.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry about her, by the way, she can be…”

  “Like Maggie?”

  “Maggie 2.0.”

  I laugh. “They’re great. Really great.”

  He steps forward, studying my eyes a little closer. I realize I’ve dropped my guard and I look away.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I bite my cheek, hesitating to say anything, but I’ve already started the avalanche of weight falling off my chest.

  “I’ve always wanted a family like this,” I say, my voice low.

  “Like what?”

  “Boring.”

  Junior scoffs, feigning some fake offense with his hand on his chest. “You think we’re boring?”

  “You know what I mean.” I rub my palms together. “Normal. Your parents love each other. They’re still together. You have a sister and you get along. Birthday cards and Christmas cookies.”

  He gives a short nod. “I don’t know if we’re normal anymore, honestly. My family could easily be weird to most others.”

  “Well, it seems a hell of a lot better than having a famous dad you barely see or a mom who couldn’t even remember whether you’re allergic to peanuts or penicillin.”

  “You’re allergic to peanuts?”

  “Penicillin.”

  “Noted.” He smiles. “Come on, Ally, look around. You grew up in New York going to fancy boarding schools. All we ever had was each other.”

  “You were wealthier than I was, Junior.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I take a step back, hoping it’ll hide the river of tears just begging to fall from my eyes. Years of repressed thoughts and emotions build up in my chest, but I fight the hormones down. This isn’t the time or the place for it. The last thing I want to do is get emotional in front of Junior. We’ve been exclusive for less than a day, for fuck’s sake, and yet…

  “I became an actress just so I could escape my life,” I hear myself say. “Be someone else — even for just a little while. It wasn’t about being noticed. It was about disappearing.”

  Junior looks at me with kind eyes, completely void of judgment. “I became an athlete so people would notice me.”

  I stop a tear before it falls. Once again, Junior and I find ourselves standing at opposite ends of a long spectrum. One about the size of a football field, ironically.

  “That’s some mighty green grass you have over there, Junior Morgan.”

  He smiles. “Looks a lot like yours, Alyssa Pierce.”

  “Sorry.” I turn away. “I didn’t mean to bring up this shit right now. I just felt like talking and you were standing there.”

  “Hey.” He places his hands on my shoulders to draw me back to him. “You don’t have to apologize. You can talk to me anytime about anything. That’s why I’m here.”

  For a second, I believe him. I believe everything will be okay and that I really can tell him everything.

  The moment passes.

  “Don’t let them see your weaknesses,” I quote. “Isn’t that what Cary Pierce always says?”

  He shrugs. “Well, I hate to say this, but… Cary Pierce is kind of a dick.”

  I laugh as Junior pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a perfect embrace.

  “There she is,” he says, reacting to my smile.

  I hold him tighter, entwining my fingers together behind his back and hoping to stay here forever.

  His lips graze my forehead. He lays a soft kiss on my temple. His arms flex slightly, holding me with an even tighter grip. I nearly cry again.

  “We should get back downstairs,” I say, pulling away. “Before they start wondering what we’re doing up here.”

  Junior nods, but his eyes say differently. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “You look really beautiful right now. I don’t want to waste it.”

  He kisses me. I cling to him; body and soul. Every taste, every smell. Everything about him drives me as crazy as it always has.

  “You’re perfect, Alyssa Pierce,” he says.

  I chuckle. “Promise?”

  Junior steps back and draws an X over his chest.

  CHAPTER 39

  ALYSSA

  “Alyssa? Is that you?”

  Grant shoves the paper sack into the pocket of his coat, hiding it away as I close the front door behind us.

  “Yeah!” I answer. “It’s me. And Grant.”

  “Who?”

  I roll my eyes as Grant grins. You know, the guy I’ve brought over here a dozen times. The guy who's stayed for dinner. Twice.

  “Grant, Dad,” I say. “We’ll be upstairs.”

  There’s a long pause. I rush toward the stairs, hoping to get up before he says anything more.

  “Alyssa, come in here for a minute.”

  But I’ve never been that lucky.

  I meet Grant’s supportive eyes and shake out my tension as we turn and make our way toward his voice. Throwing on a smile, I walk into the kitchen to face my father sitting at the island counter with a sports magazine in one hand and an empty glass in the other.

  “Hey, Dad,” I greet as I step forward. I set my bag and notebooks on the counter beside him as I lean in to kiss his cheek, instantly smelling the alcohol in his breath. At least I know he’ll sleep heavily tonight.

  “Hello, daughter.”

  He looks at Grant in the doorway, his expression only showing the vaguest recognition. “Evening, Grant.”

  “Good evening, Coach!” Grant says, waving. “How are you tonight?”

  “Not bad.” Dad looks at me. “You didn’t come home last night.”

  “Oh, yeah. I…” I walk to the refrigerator to grab us a few bottles of water. “I stayed at Grant’s last night,” I lie.

  “Oh?”

  “We were up a little too late running lines and then we did some homework at the library today.”

  Dad eyes my notebooks. “What kind of homework?”

  “History. And some English Lit.”

  I return to the counter to grab my bag and get out of here. As I reach for the notebooks, Dad grabs a loose page and slides it out.

  “Why do you have Junior Morgan’s math homework?” he asks.

  Shit.

  I meet his eyes, speechless. “Um…”

  “Oh, that’s mine!”

  Grant lurches forward and takes the top notebook.

  “Yours?” Dad asks.

  “Yes, I… am Junior’s math tutor. Yup. I’m helping him with math. I like math.”

  I glare at him over my father’s thick shoulder, but Grant throws everything into this performance.

  My father tilts his head. “You are Junior’s tutor?” he asks.

  Grant nods. “Yes, sir.”

  “You?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He stares at Grant, his glossy eyes full of confusion. “O-kay,” he says at length.

  “Well, we’ll be upstairs,” I say, snatching the page out of his loose grip. “Love you, Dad.”

  “Yeah. You too, sweetie,” he mutters as we bolt from the kitchen.

  “Goodnight, Coach,” Grant says. “Go, Bearhawks!”

  We rush to my room together, staying quiet until we close the door behind us.

  “Fuck, Grant. You… are… my hero,” I say, out of breath.

  “I know,” he says, smug as always.

  He withdraws the paper sack from his jacket and holds it out to me. I look at it, silently chewing on my cheek.

  “Just do it,” Grant says.

  “Can’t we wait for a bit?” I ask.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know!” I turn away from it. “I just want to wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, I don’t have to go right now. So, we have to wait.”

  Grant snorts. “Alyssa, you always have to go.”

  I glare at his truth. “Do I really need to know right this second?”

  “Will it make a difference an hour from now?” he asks. “Two hours from now?”

  “No,” I say with a sigh.

  He extends the sack closer to my hand. “Just do it, honey.”

  In my gut, I know he’s right, but it’s not my gut I’m afraid for. My heart clenches as I take the sack and open it. A single item rests inside. A small rectangular box holds the answer to my entire future.

  “First scare?” Grant asks.

  I swallow. “Yeah.”

  He gently squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be right here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No matter the result,” he says, squeezing again. “I’ll be here.”

  I look at him and smile, somehow. “Thanks,” I say again as I turn away. “Guard the door, please.”

  Grant cracks his knuckles. “Ain’t nobody getting through me,” he says, leaning into his De Niro impression.

  He’s trying to make me laugh. I try, but all I can manage is a push of air through my nostrils.

  My heart knocks against my ribs so hard it hurts as I enter my bathroom and close the door behind me. I dump the box onto the cabinet, wondering if I should even bother reading the instructions before doing it. How many ways can there be to pee on something?

  I read them anyway. I read them twice.

  Then, once I’m done, I read them again.

  Ninety seconds.

  I leave the test on the counter and return to my bedroom. Grant chuckles as I enter. I tense, but relax when I realize his focus is on his phone.

  “Who are you texting?” I ask.

  “Hm?” He pockets his phone. “Oh, nobody.”

  “Nobody?”

  “Nobody.”

  I tiptoe closer. He shields the screen. “I wonder how Ty feels being referred to as Nobody.”

  Grant gasps. “Who told?”

  “Junior.”

  “Naughty boy.”

  I sit down on the edge of my bed. “Pillow talk can be dangerous.”

  He hums in agreement as he plops down beside me.

  “So, you two are…”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” he says.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  Grant laughs. “Everybody does.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Grant.”

  “Thank you.”

  I bob my chin toward his pocket. “What are you texting about?”

  “Eh.” He shrugs, brushing it off. “Nothing important.”

  “Must be nice if he’s got you giggling.”

  “I do not giggle.”

  “There was definitely some giggling there.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” His eyes drift toward the bathroom door. “It doesn’t feel like the right time to rub my happiness in your face.”

  I smile. “I don’t mind.”

  “No?”

  “Rub away. Please. I could use the distraction right now.”

  “Okay.” Grant shifts to the side and hugs his knee. “We were supposed to hook up tonight, but something came up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not you. He waited until the last minute to study for a test, so he had to back out. He’s cramming right now, so naturally I’m sending him filthy text messages.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I’m thinking of pulling a page from your playbook and promising him full access to my mouth if he gets a good enough grade.”

  “Very nice!” I say with a chuckle. “What grade?”

  “I dunno, a C? C-minus? I’m not picky.”

  “Where’s your self-respect?” I tease.

  “Fine. B-plus.”

  We laugh.

  Grant glances at the bathroom again, but he looks away just as quickly. “And you and Lover Boy?” he asks.

  “What about us?”

  “You two are now…”

  I take a breath, barely. “Official. Yeah, we are.”

  “Does that make you happy?” he asks.

  I’m not sure how to reply. On the surface, yes. I’m happy. So very happy. But if I dig even an inch, I meet nothing but doubt.

  Can I really answer that question before I know for sure?

  I rise off the bed. Grant stands as well, but he lingers in place as I walk back into the bathroom. I hesitate for a moment before forcing myself to look.

  Plus sign. Positive.

  How is that possible? We were careful. Except for that first time, but… dammit, maybe the EC didn’t take.

  I’m pregnant.

  I can’t have this baby.

  That’s a fact. I’m too young. I’m in college. I would very much like to graduate.

  And Junior. He doesn’t need this. A baby would only hold him back from his dream. I can’t do that to him. I won’t.

  So, I guess there’s only one thing to be done.

  I pause, feeling the phantom touch of Junior’s hands on mine and how he makes me feel every time he looks at me.

  A smile creeps across my face.

  I’m carrying Junior Morgan’s baby.

  An image flashes in my head. A fictitious spark of hope. Junior standing in front of me with his eyes gazing down at the swaddled lump in his arms. He can’t stop grinning.

  For a second, it’s the warmest thought I could ever imagine.

  In another second, I fall in love with it.

  I have to protect it. Even if the odds are as tiny as this baby is inside of me right now, I have to protect the possibility.

  “What are you going to do?” Grant asks me.

  I don’t answer.

  I imagine a perfect world where this doesn’t come crashing down around me.

  CHAPTER 40

  JUNIOR

  November

  “Ally?”

  “What?” Alyssa exhales a pleasurable sigh. “Why did you stop?”

  I’m throbbing so deep inside of her I can barely feel anything else, but I still pause. Her face is flushed, covered with a thin layer of sweat and sex-blush. If there’s one thing I’ve grown to know about Alyssa Pierce, it’s that her brain shuts off during sex. She gets into it and completely immerses herself in the experience. Rarely do her thoughts distract her, but right now…

  She’s not even here.

  “I said, are you okay?” I ask again.

  “Yeah,” she says, flexing her inner muscles to encourage my thrust. “Don’t stop.”

  I don’t move, fixated on the doubt in her eyes. “What’s on your mind?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  She sighs. “I’m just… freaking out about tomorrow.”

  “There it is.” I smile. “Me, too. That’s why we insisted on a bout of stress relief before going over your lines again.” I kiss her neck. “Calm down, Ally. You’re going to be great up there.”

  “I wish you could be there,” she murmurs.

  “I’ll be there right after the game,” I promise, tracing her collarbone with my tongue. “And then, I’ll be in the front row on Sunday.”

  “Really?”

  I look into her happy eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t make the game.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She smiles. “But I’ll be at the championship game.”

  I wince. “If—”

  “No if.” She brushes my hair away from my eyes. “There’s no way in hell you guys don’t win tomorrow.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” I say. “We’re one game away. That’s it. Just one game away.”

  “I’m proud of you, Junior.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I knew you had it in you.”

  My heart bursts. I kiss her, crushing my lips on hers as if my life depended on it.

  Cary Pierce couldn’t have gotten me this far on his own. As much as I admire him, it wasn’t his coaching that pushed me toward greatness and made me into a better man.

  That was all her.

  Her hands move down and grip my ass, pulling my hips closer to her begging body. I give her a thrust and she moans into my mouth. Every time with her is like the first time. Always full of amazing sensations that I never thought possible, ones that I’ll never feel again after the moment has passed, but that just makes them even more intense.

  I fuck her faster, gripping the sheets beneath us as her hips meet every move. She kisses me back, locked in the moment unlike before. I feel her body tense, just a few deep grinds away from climax. I race her to the finish line, bucking and moaning with her.